


Thistle and Weeds

by CrowsAce



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Arthur Morgan Has Low Self-Esteem, Arthur Morgan Lives, Arthur Morgan has mental health problems, Arthur with multiple members of the gang, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Blood and Gore, Bottom Arthur, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, M/M, Multi, Poor Arthur, Post-Blackwater, Protective Arthur, Young Arthur Morgan, bad dutch, coz you can love in more ways than one, crazy micah, different variations of relationships, made up towns, people die though, pre-blackwater, shit happens, you can hate in more ways than one too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 15:49:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowsAce/pseuds/CrowsAce
Summary: Other members of the camp often talked about him, when they thought he couldn’t hear them, his brothers, friends talking about the demon dog Arthur Morgan, how cruel, how vile, will do anything his master ordered.How he hated their words, the truth within them





	Thistle and Weeds

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping head first into this fandom with a dark and twisted story, that I hope makes sense to others that read this.  
I apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

There was a disgusting oozing feeling in his chest, one that crawled through his lungs like black tar sludge, and poured out into his very essence. There was no denying that this decaying darkness had always been there. Arthur was certain he was born with it, or at least the feeling was born when confronted with his mother’s death or perhaps when his father first took to the bottle and began taking a fist to his young son. Either way, the feeling had only seemed to worsen in him as the years went on. Encouraged to grow worse it seems at the hand of his mentor. 

But now, now the darkness seemed to be eating him alive, he didn’t feel like himself anymore, but then he never did feel like himself.

He just felt worse

With every passing day. Worse. 

Other members of the camp often talked about him, when they thought he couldn’t hear them, his  _ brothers, friends _ talking about the demon dog Arthur Morgan, how cruel, how vile, will do anything his  _ master _ ordered. 

How he hated their words, the truth within them. He couldn’t be like the golden boy, he couldn’t do what little Johnny did and just leave… and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. Unlike John - who left an entire year only for Dutch to welcome him back with open arms - Arthur would not be welcomed back, heck he wouldn’t even make it to the next town over without being chased down and dragged back. He knew this from experience of course, that one time he tried never again. So when John came back he felt a bitter rage encase him, he just didn’t know if it was because Marston had dared to show his face after abandoning them all, or if it was because Dutch just smiled and welcomed him back like a long lost brother,  _ a son _ , or if it was because he came back at all. He was free, free from this life, why come back?

It was soon made apparent it wasn’t for Abigail or Jack, John barely spared them a glance. The rage grew more at the sight of a heartbroken Abigail holding a confused Jack. He remembered the day his  _ ‘older brother’ _ returned. He woke up with the sense that something was different. Had gotten up got dressed and gone out to get his usual breakfast, a bitter coffee and a cigarette. Only to look over at the horses where most of the camp was, gathered around excitedly talking and there in the middle, a grinning Marston with Dutchs hand proudly gripping his shoulder and Hossea beaming at him, from across the distance their eyes meet. 

“Arthur!” The older had called out jovially, unaware as most of the gang tensed, ready for the drama to kick off. All eyes now on him, he blankly looked Marston up and down, before walking away, lighting up a fag as he went. He decided to skip his morning coffee. Not to sure if he would of been able to keep a steady hand to make himself one as the rage burned inside. Walking behind one of the tents away from all the eyes he found a distraught Abigail clutching on to Jack.

“He ignored us Arthur, wouldn’t even spare a second, and D-Dutch said to just leave it for now.” 

Arthur wanted to break something, preferably John’s face, instead he crouched down, smiling softly at Jack reaching out to stroke the little boy’s hair before turning to Abigail. “Would you and Jack like to come to town with me?”

“Are… are you sure? What if Dutch says we can’t?”

“We ain’t asking his permission, I can deal with him later, for now how about I take you and this one to one of those cafes for some breakfast?”

Abigail gave him a watery smile before turning her gaze to Jack. 

“Doesn’t that sound like fun sweety?”

“Yeah!” The little boy said excitedly reaching his little arms out to Arthur, the young man obliged taking the young boy and standing up, readjusting little Jack so he was able to hold him securely with one arm and offer his other hand to Abigail to help her up. 

As soon as she was ready they began making their way over to one of the little wagons they could take out for travel. Arthur grabbed his stachel from his tent and then turned to her. “Just don’t pay them any attention ok.” she looked at him for a moment, before a look of determination crossed her face and she nodded. She had a coat for herself and Jack over one arm, and with her free arm she grabbed hold of his free forearm and gave Jack a smile.

The three of them walked around the edge of camp to the free wagon, trying not to draw attention to themselves, not yet at least. The other members of the gang are still distracted and happily chatting loudly amongst themselves, that it isn’t until Arthur has Abigail and Jack up on the front bench and has finished clipping the Boadicea to the little wagon that someone finally notices.

Hopping up on the bench next to Jack, Arthur looks over at the group to see Hosea has noticed him. 

“Arthur?” The man questions softly. But it does the trick. Everyone’s attention is now on the wagon, and he can see the looks of shock and some other emotions flicker through the group. Arthur snaps the reigns and Boadecia is soon off. He keeps the pace steady but fast ignoring Dutch’s yell of “Arthur!” and John’s outraged “Hey!” and soon they’re out and away from camp, it’s not until they’re half way between the camp and town does Arthur feel it’s okay to speak again, he looks over at Abigail, seeing she has one arm around Jack and the other resting on the side of the wagon, her knuckles white from how hard she was gripping the wooden side.

“You alright?”

“Yeah I - thank you Arthur, thank you for this. I don’t think I could handle it back there any longer, everyone just acting like he was just on holiday or something, like he just didn’t up and leave the moment he had to man up for something. Thank you for not being like them. Like  _ him. _ Thank you for being there for me and the boy this past year.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything Abigail, you know that.”

They shared soft smiles and then began engaging an excited Jack in conversations about the journey and scenery, and in no time at all, they arrive at the quaint little village of Bluelily.

**Author's Note:**

> Did they have cafes back then? Oh well they do now, perhaps I should add inaccurate history to the tags.


End file.
